


Divide

by babel



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Community: lgbtfest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-27
Updated: 2010-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-14 04:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babel/pseuds/babel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A visit to a conditioning facility revives Travis's memories from the psychiatric evaluation he underwent to join Space Fleet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divide

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lgbtfest@LJ prompt 107: _A Federation crackdown on "moral deviancy."_ Travis's characterization and appearance are based on Greif's performance.

  


The facility was a few miles outside of Sydney Dome and could only be reached by special transit from the city or from the heavily-guarded landing pad on its roof. Any respectable officer in Space Fleet knew to avoid the place, but Travis had no choice. Someone who had been associated with Blake in his Freedom Party days had been caught leading a small group outside the dome, and this facility was the closest place with level one security holding cells.

The early evening sky was a sickly shade of pale gray when they landed, and as soon as Travis's feet touched the solid concrete roof, he longed to return to his ship. Right away, a high-ranking bureaucrat greeted him, unable to maintain eye contact for more than a second at a time. A typical enough way for someone to greet Travis since the news of Auros spread through the Federation; it didn't particularly annoy Travis except that his greeter wasted time fidgeting and stumbling over his words.

"I would like to question the prisoner immediately," Travis interrupted the awkward greeting. "Show me to him."

"Er, yes-- Yes, of course."

The bureaucrat whose name Travis hadn't bothered to remember led him and his mutoids through the high-ceilinged black halls into the viscera of the facility. Like any conditioning facility, cries of patients echoed from all directions until there was no telling which direction they were coming from.

Travis had been here once, a decade ago, and it hadn't changed since then except it was now full of patients from all over the galaxy. Alphas down to deltas. He'd heard that even a few omegas were sent here, scraped off the street by morally conscious charity groups. It mattered little to him. This place was only another weapon the Federation used to keep its citizens healthy.

"Ah, here it is," the bureaucrat said, finding a door exactly like the others they'd passed but for a different number and letter designation. "This is the observation chamber. You'll be able to watch the prisoner from--"

"I know what it is," Travis sneered.

"O-oh, yes. Right," the bureaucrat pressed his thumb against a print scanner, and the door slid open.

The observation room was not empty. A man near Travis's age sat, one leg crossed over the other, waiting for them. He smiled and stood when Travis entered the room.

The bureaucrat stammered, "S-Space Commander, this is--"

"Carnell," Travis said through his teeth. "Leave us."

"I-- Yes, s-sir." The bureaucrat eyed the two mutoids on either side of Travis. "Of course. I'll be right outside if you need me."

Carnell watched the man scuttle away before he spoke, smooth-voiced as ever, "Space Commander Travis. It _has_ been a while, hasn't it?"

Holding his ground silently, Travis eyed the Psychostrategist. A decade hadn't changed Carnell--not in any meaningful way--just as it hadn't changed this place.

Travis hadn't expected that such a feeble thing as time could have.

__________________

A decade ago, Travis had only just finished his training for Space Fleet. Unfortunately, Space Fleet required more than training of its officers.

The room was black and empty except for two chairs and an elaborate desk between them. It reminded Travis of the sensory deprivation chamber he'd been put in during his preliminary psychological testing. He doubted that the similarity was a coincidence.

Behind him, he heard a door slide open and footsteps approach. He tensed but did not turn to confront. A hair trigger was a common defect among those promoted in grade to become an officer, especially after six months of intensive training. Travis was too close to show defects now.

"Sit," the intruder said casually as he rounded Travis and the desk to settle into his own, much more ornate, chair.

They watched each other as Travis deliberately did as he was told. It was obvious that he was no older than Travis himself, and it grated at Travis for reasons he could not define.

The man flipped open the file he held for only a second, then closed it again. "Arik Travis, correct?"

"Yes."

"I am not what you expected, am I, Arik?" he asked, smiling genially.

Flatly, Travis responded, "I prefer to go by my surname."

"Yes," he said, chuckling. "You, on the other hand, are exactly what I expected."

"That _is_ your job, isn't it?"

"For the moment. As you have noticed, I am a bit young for this to be my true job. It is part of my training as well, for psychostrategy."

"You think yourself qualified to judge whether or not I am prepared to enter service?"

The man smiled. "Overqualified."

"Is that meant to be reassuring?"

"It is simply true. I shall be seeing you on a daily basis for the next week, at the end of which time, I shall send in a report to central command with my recommendation."

" _A week_?" Travis spat, unable to keep the impatient edge from his voice. "I was told it would be two days."

"I prefer to do the job thoroughly. And you are only a _gamma_ grade, after all. I can hardly let you waltz through."

Travis grit his teeth, leveling the man with a cold glare. “I have been promoted to alpha grade, as I am sure you saw in the report."

"I am sure that I did." The man rose and moved toward the door. "The week starts tomorrow. Be here at eight in the morning." He paused before exiting. "My name, by the way, is Carnell. Should you wish to have something to call your enemy."

__________________

Travis knew what to expect when he sat in that dark room across from Carnell the next time. He did not flinch when Carnell said, without preamble, "Tell me about your family, then."

"They are gamma grade and have been involved in military service to the Federation for five generations. My mother was a guardsman for the previous administration, and my father is a ground trooper. As was my brother."

Carnell's eyes seemed to catch even the dim light and reflect it brightly. "Your brother died in service."

"Yes," Travis answered flatly.

"His accomplishments are not the ones your family most often speaks of, though."

Travis blinked.

"Of course, you can't blame them. An alpha in the family. Soon to be a promising young officer..."

Travis gripped his armrests, restraining himself. "You've spoken to them?"

"No," Carnell rejoined, his perpetually vague smile still playing at his lips.

"What--" Travis found himself flustered, and it was beginning to anger him. "What has this to do with anything?"

"Haven't studied much psychology, have you? It always has to do with parents." Carnell chuckled as if he'd told a joke. "They're looking forward to you finding a nice girl to come home to, of course."

Travis forced his muscles to obey him and relax. "I have little time for that."

"Yes, intensive training doesn't leave much time. Any particular reason why you chose it?"

"It's quicker. Six months compared to twelve."

"For a promoted grade, of course. Tell me, Arik, have you any phobias?"

Travis furrowed his brow. "You read the report."

"This report?" Carnell raised the folder and dropped it back on his desk. "It's useless. Written by technicians analyzing data from machines? I'm sure a man such as yourself is intelligent enough to trick a machine."

"Not intelligent enough to trick you?"

Carnell's grin widened. "Have you any phobias, Arik?"

"No."

"Not anymore," Carnell clarified. "Had you any before?"

"You've given up on the line of questioning about my parents."

Carnell did not respond; his eyes were still complacently bright, and the corners of his lips still curved upward.

"Blood," Travis said, emotionless.

"Mortality. A rational enough fear, manifested in the irrational fear of blood itself. And you no longer fear your mortality?"

"I no longer fear blood."

Again, Carnell chuckled. "It isn't an easy phobia to rid yourself of. Your report says you've never been conditioned, at least not yet. How did you manage it?"

Travis shifted his weight in his seat, and the chair creaked jarringly. "I desensitized myself."

"Oh?" Carnell raised his eyebrows.

"Berlin has a traditional abattoir. I was permitted to watch, then participate in, the exsanguination of some cattle."

Carnell's eyebrows remained raised as he listened to Travis speak. "How many?"

"Seven, over the course of three days."

The room was very quiet between retorts. Travis's lips twitched in pleasure over quieting Carnell, if only for a moment. Slowly, Carnell leaned forward with his arms folded on his desk, his eyes fixed on Travis.

"Do you think of it often?" he asked.

"Slaughtering cattle?" Travis sneered, and his mind flickered with the memory of blood on his arms, up to his elbows. "No."

"Did you do it before or after your brother's death?"

Travis narrowed his eyes. "That is a cheap connection."

"Entirely. Feel no obligation to answer. It's not as if I don't know what you'll say," Carnell said in irritatingly good humor. "I saw in your report that you've been officially reprimanded for fighting."

Another new topic. Travis was beginning to get the feeling this _trainee_ had no idea where he was going with any of this. "Yes."

"It doesn't say what the fight was about."

"Then it must not be required information."

Carnell shrugged. "Probably not. Would it please you to know that the young man you fought with, Garrison, I believe... Would it please you to know that he failed his final psychological evaluation?

The corner of Travis's mouth twitched. "His career does not concern me."

"What did you fight about, Arik?" Carnell asked, tilting his head slightly. His eyes glistened like ice. "Some typical, testosterone fueled argument, of course. Your mother is a whore. Your father a coward. Your brother incompetent. No... You wouldn't fight over an insult to them. It was an insult to you."

Travis did not react outwardly. He drew slow, even breaths to calm his quickening pulse.

"If I had to guess, it had to do with your grade. Your promotion. Touchy about that, aren't you? I knew you would be. Most are touchy who don't simply accept their fate. Never equal to _born_ alphas, even when they are promoted. So what did he say, exactly?"

"You seem to be enjoying making the story up," Travis growled through his teeth. "I wouldn't want to spoil it with the truth."

Carnell laughed aloud. "A hazard of always being right."

"Then tell me. What did he say?"

"Ah." Carnell's gaze hardened, turned clinical, then it swept down Travis's body, and up again across his face. "Someone like you? I suspect your peers accuse you of trading sexual favors for your promotion."

Travis grimaced as he swallowed thickly. It felt invasive, that Carnell should guess that. Even if it was not precisely true, it felt invasive. Carnell was from the outside; he shouldn't know what went on in the barracks.

"But you wouldn't fight over only that. Fight to defend your career when the fight itself could end it before it begins? No. No, you're too bright for that." Carnell drew a deep breath, then leaned back in his seat, arching his fingers together. "That's enough for today."

It should have been a relief to end it, but it unsettled Travis to end it _there_. He almost wanted to defend himself, but that would give him away more than silence.

Regardless of how well Carnell had read his silence to this point.

As Travis stood, Carnell added, "Oh, and don't come in tomorrow."

"You tire of your job easily." Travis scoffed.

Carnell smiled, teeth and all. "Perhaps."

__________________

The artificial sky of Sydney Dome was a pale morning gray by the time Travis had finished his morning run, and the cobalt walls of the barracks he'd been temporarily assigned to during his evaluation stood out painfully bright against the backdrop. He jogged up the stairs to the third floor and turned down his corridor.

His stomach clenched.

Carnell was standing next to Travis's door, arms crossed, grinning as always.

"You get up and about early," Carnell said smoothly.

Travis eyed him but did not move to unlock his door. "You said that there would be no session today."

"Ah, not quite." Carnell raised a finger. "I told you not to come in today."

"You plan to stalk me instead?"

"In a sense, yes."

Travis drew a breath, holding back his annoyance as he swiped his keycard and shoved the door open. "I trust you won't follow me into the shower."

Carnell's eyebrow quirked, but he said nothing. Travis was in no mood for playing these games, not before his shower, so he left his front door open for Carnell to come or go as he pleased and retreated into the bathroom.

It was a tiny room, but it was also the first private bathroom he'd had in six months. Through its thin walls, he listened to the muffled sounds of Carnell closing the front door and walking past, presumably into the main room. Travis sighed and turned on the faucet, then he peeled off his running clothes as he waited for the water to warm.

This was when he usually touched himself, under the running water after a good workout. He didn't particularly desire it now, but it was part of the routine. A necessary part. If he waited until he desired it, he could desire it anytime. It could be distracting, that feeling. It needed to be controlled.

But there was something peculiar about doing it with Carnell in the next room, waiting, so he didn't. He washed himself quickly, and pulled on his running bottoms again--he'd forgotten to get anything to change into--and threw the rest of his running clothes into the hamper.

Carnell was sitting in the desk chair, with the back turned away from the desk and his arms crossed. He looked Travis over when he entered the main room, then cast his eyes away, toward the small window over the bed. "You should get dressed."

"Should I?"

"I think I shall be taking you somewhere today."

Travis grimaced. "Let me know when you're sure. I have studying to do, as I'm sure you know."

"Yes." Carnell's smile was more subdued than usual. "I've been considering your fight with Garrison."

Travis didn't speak. He sat on the side of his bed and picked up his study manual for the procedural test he'd be taking when he passed Carnell's psychological examination.

He could feel Carnell's eyes on him again.

"I always ran into a logical wall when I tried to think it out, because I was considering why you would fight. But the fight was his construct, wasn't it? He wanted to prove something. That's why he failed his psych exam. He was trying to prove something instead of simply... hiding."

"I hope you didn't sit up all night thinking about this," Travis said dully as he flipped a page in his manual, even though he hadn’t really seen the words on the last page.

"Most people," Carnell continued, “even people in my profession, don't go looking unless something draws our attention. We don't look for the dust circling the empty space where something used to be. Where something should be."

Travis quirked an eyebrow, keeping his expression blank and directed downward toward the manual. "Do you plan on making sense at some point?"

"Get dressed. We have someone to visit."

Carnell's attempt at an order made Travis smirk, but he followed it anyway.

__________________

The lifeless Sydney landscape zipped by outside of the special transit. They'd left the dome an hour ago, and Carnell and Travis sat across from each other in silence. Travis was reading his manual, but when he glanced up he found Carnell doing nothing but sitting and staring out the window at a thousand kilometers of long burnt earth.

Finally, the transit glided into a station. Carnell rose and motioned for Travis to follow him. Even as the doors hissed open, the smell of new construction was overwhelming. He'd expected the station to be as empty as their transit car had been, but it was silently busy. Some people were led by loved ones with an arm around their shoulders while many others rolled in with full body restraints.

They didn't look like criminals, but Travis recognized that this was a conditioning facility.

"What are we doing here?" Travis growled lowly.

"Not treatment," Carnell answered. "This way."

Carnell swept through the crowd and found a small door, which was being ignored for the larger entrances. The door led into a narrow corridor, which led into a larger corridor with absurdly high, black walls, smooth and unadorned but for the Federation insignia placed at regular intervals. Silvery light fell from above, somewhere Travis couldn't quite make out, and it turned Carnell's fair hair and skin marble white against his night black tunic.

Carnell stopped at one of the many nondescript doors which lined the hall. He pressed his thumb into a scanner and the door slid open. Subtly, he glanced to his left, then his right, before entering. Travis followed him into the small, black room. It too reminded Travis of the sensory-deprivation chamber, as Carnell's office had.

"I pulled strings to draw you for your evaluation," Carnell said, “because I had a feeling. I can't trust my colleagues with you, because the last time I trusted my colleagues this happened."

Travis furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about?"

"A friend of mine wasn't sure what to make of the cadet she was evaluating. She's a perfectionist and a future psychostrategist like myself, and she could tell that something wasn't fitting into place. She didn't know _why_ until I suggested the solution." Carnell punched a button on the wall across from the door. The wall turned transparent, revealing a cell behind it. "And this happened."

Travis didn't immediately recognize the young man in the cell. He was thinner, dressed in a white hospital gown instead of a black cadet's uniform. But it was Garrison.

"I knew you'd been reprimanded for fighting each other, but I couldn't know precisely why just from what little my friend told me about him. My answer satisfied her, but not me. Knowing why has always been a bit of a fascination of mine." Carnell laughed weakly.

Garrison was sitting hunched in the corner of his cell, staring at the floor. The only indication that he was alive was the slow rise and fall of his chest with each shaky breath.

When Travis knew him, he'd been incapable of staying in one place for very long before he was up and pacing or hitting the walls. Now he seemed perfectly content to sit and stare.

"The funny thing is, I was wrong." Carnell's voice had lowered to a whisper. "This place is for people like us, not like him."

"I don't understand," Travis said flatly, though his heart beat hard in his chest.

"The Federation exists through conformity in all aspects of life. This facility is an experiment. To see if they are ready for wide-spread conditioning of sexual deviants. Right now, it is only open to certain test groups, including cadets who are evaluated as deviants." Carnell hit the button again and the wall went black. He turned his gaze to Travis, his eyes like glass in the silver light. "I thought he was homosexual, but I was wrong. You are."

Travis realized he had stopped breathing, but he wasn't sure he could start again. "This room isn't monitored," he said weakly.

"I would hardly implicate myself along with you if it were."

"Right." Travis stared at the black wall that now stood between himself and the cell. "But..."

"I assure you, I was wrong about him," Carnell snapped, anticipating an argument. "If the two of you did have sex, it was be--"

"No." They had kissed, against a wall, hips grinding together. Somewhere too public to continue further, but Garrison had made a promise. Later, they would meet. Travis had been willing to take the risk.

"He was a thrill-seeker before he... Well, he was one. That was his attraction. It was dangerous."

But Garrison didn't show up when he said he would.

"Tell me about the fight, Travis," Carnell insisted. He seemed too close, but Travis couldn't move to escape him.

Travis closed his eyes, as if that would block out the images in his mind. "I came across him. He was with his friends. He said something about me to them. I don't remember what, exactly. Something about gammas, I think." He opened his eyes again. "He tricked me. He made me think... I waited for him, and he said he'd be there. I was looking for an excuse to confront him about it when he didn't show, but I didn't expect it would happen quite like that. I didn't think I would hit him."

"It comes out in strange ways, doesn't it?"

Carnell had a hint of humor in his voice that made Travis's finger's ball into fists. Without thinking, Travis struck like a snake, grabbing hold of Carnell's tunic and slamming him into the wall. The wall that separated them and the cell.

"Tell me why are you doing this," Travis growled, his mind dark with rage like it had been when he hit Garrison. "If not to turn me in, why?"

"I--" Carnell's voice caught. His eyes were wide with terror, suddenly vulnerable to Travis's attack instead of the other way around.

Travis pressed him harder into the wall. "Speak."

"I sent him here," Carnell blurted out. "I didn't know about this place yet. I thought he didn't deserve to be an officer because he'd fought, so I jumped to a conclusion. Do you _know_ what would happen if I do that as a psychostrategist?"

"What does that have to do with me?"

"I'd wanted to prove I was right, but now I..." Travis felt Carnell take a deep breath, loosening his tense muscles. "There is no saving him, but I think I can save you."

Travis sneered. "I don't need saving."

"You _do_ ," Carnell said. "Someone will figure it out, Travis. I did. You'll slip again, eventually, and you'll end up here. And they don't know how to _fix_ this. They don't know how to change sexual behavior permanently, so they just hack away at your mind. They may as well be lobotomizing these patients with ice picks." Carnell wet his lips. "I'm not claiming to be a good or charitable person, and I probably wouldn't care under other circumstances. I won't end up here once I'm a psychostrategist; they've spent too much time molding my mind to risk destroying it. But someone like you? You'll be in danger your entire career. If I keep you safe, I will feel better about this. That's all. Can you understand that?"

Travis held Carnell there for a long moment, trying to read him. It would do no good to try, he knew. If anyone had the training to hide his intention, it was a puppeteer like Carnell. But if it was an act, it was a good one. With his eyes so wide and his cheeks flushed with fear, he looked like the young man he was, not the calculating creature Travis had met in that black office.

"If this is a trick," Travis said in a low voice. "I will find a way to kill you."

Carnell laughed weakly. "I believe you."

Travis released him, pushing himself back a few steps. "Take me out of here."

"Yes," Carnell answered, and he lowered his head as he passed Travis to the door.

__________________

Travis didn't sleep. When the lights were off, the walls of his room, which had once seemed like freedom, looked too much like the ones at the facility. At least with the lights on, the walls were gray, not black. He sat on his bed, unmoving, until artificial dawn lit his window. He pushed himself to his feet and toward the shower.

He let the hot water hit his skin for nearly an hour, his eyes closed.

If he had been able to control himself, none of this would have happened. It wasn't as if he'd had feelings for Garrison that had gotten out of hand. He'd simply been attracted enough to him, and to his volatile personality, that his hormones got the better of him.

He turned off the water and watched the last of it run down the drain.

As if on autopilot, he dried and dressed himself and left for Carnell's office. He didn't remember until he was sitting in the chair, staring at Carnell's desk trying to ignore the black walls, that he had left his light on in his room.

Carnell didn't speak right away, but when he did, he sounded different than the last time he was in this office. "You haven't slept."

"No."

"Did you take your morning run?"

"No."

Travis could hear Carnell take the deep breath of a concerned and impatient parent. "You showered at least. Your hair is still damp."

Slowly, Travis raised his eyes to Carnell. His expression was blank, but he looked well-rested enough.

"I can't say it wasn't my intention to upset you."

"I haven't taken it personally," Travis spat.

Carnell's hands were folded one over the other on his desk, and Travis could see the tendons under his skin shift with tension. The show of uncertainty, however slight, sent a muted thrill through Travis. "Are we back to this, then? I had hoped we would no longer be enemies."

"Treat me like an equal and we won't be." At Carnell's quizzical look, Travis continued, "When I had you against that wall, I was no longer a gamma to you. I was no longer a victim of your whim, whose career you could destroy with a flick of your pen."

"All right," Carnell said with some trepidation. "Tell me, then, how shall we accomplish that?"

Travis's eyes flicked up at the black wall behind Carnell, lined with gray books on a darker gray shelf. "I'd like to meet somewhere else."

"Ah, yes. I should have suggested it myself. Is there anywhere you would prefer in particular?"

"No." Travis frowned. "Somewhere neutral."

Carnell nodded. "Yes. I think I have an idea." He stood and motioned for Travis to follow. "You can, of course, turn it down if you find it unsuitable."

Grudgingly, Travis followed Carnell into the corridor, and then into a lift. As the floor numbers climbed, Carnell glanced Travis over. "You really should continue your morning jogs."

Travis sneered, but before he could argue, Carnell anticipated him.

"No, not..." Carnell laughed. "Not to improve your _physical_ fitness. The body is more your area of expertise than mine."

The lift doors slid open into a well-lit corridor with clinically white tile floors and blue walls. A woman in a white coat with her hair drawn back smiled and nodded at Carnell as they passed her.

"Is this a hospital?" Travis hissed.

"Yes. Well, sort of." Carnell smiled at him as he opened one of the doors. "You don't have to whisper."

The room inside was as much different from Carnell's office as Travis could imagine a room. It was small, entirely white, with chairs circling the center. There seemed to be no position of power like Carnell's over-sized desk and chair; everything was equal.

"Will this suffice?" Carnell asked, looking pleased with himself. "It's designed for group sessions, but they don't meet until midday."

Travis circled the chairs until he found the one opposite the door to sit in. "What sort of sessions?"

"Those of us in the psychiatric profession meet here to... discuss."

"A meeting room, then," Travis said.

"No. Therapy." Carnell sat in a chair across and two chairs to the right of the one Travis had chosen. "We do tend to be the ones with the most psychiatric problems."

"Logical," Travis said dubiously.

Carnell shrugged. "There is no one without issues that need addressing. We have to learn how to live with them, and not let them affect our professional judgment."

"And it is unmonitored?"

"Necessarily, yes. You may say whatever you want in here without danger of being overheard."

Travis nodded, though he wasn't sure he believed. At this point, it hardly mattered. Carnell knew enough to destroy him already, if that was his intent. "It will suffice."

"Good," Carnell said, smiling.

"Why did you tell me I should continue running?"

"Because I think you knew to do it instinctually. You knew it helped." Carnell paused, crossing his legs. "It clears your mind. Releases pent up energy. Also, it's a habit, and you are a creature of habit. We will need to use that to our advantage. Is there anything else to your morning ritual?"

Travis leaned back in his chair to observe Carnell. "You saw it. I shower and dress, then I study."

"Ah. Any night ritual then?"

"Not particularly..."

"I see I will need to be upfront about this," Carnell laughed. "How often do you masturbate?"

Travis blinked at him.

"You will have to be open with me if you want my help. This is about your sexuality, so I need to know about your sex, as it were."

The faint buzzing of lights seemed suddenly very loud in Travis's ears. It was childish to be embarrassed by such things, but they weren't the sort of things he was accustomed to talking about.

In fact, none of this was the sort of thing he generally spoke about with anyone. "Once a day. In the shower."

Carnell didn't answer immediately, so Travis looked up to find him with his brow thoughtfully furrowed.

"Not... while you were there," Travis said.

Carnell's eyes widened slightly. "Ah, no. I was. Considering something else." Quickly, he added. "Otherwise, are you sexually active?"

Travis shifted his weight in the suddenly uncomfortable chair. "Not at the moment."

"How many people have you been with in the past; women and men?"

"Three girls."

Carnell nodded. "No men, I take it. How long since you've been with a girl, then?"

"Two years," he answered immediately. "What about you?"

Carnell's eyes widened. "Pardon?"

"Equals now. You answer my questions too."

"Ah." Carnell's eyes remained wide as he smiled. "They say doctors are the most difficult patients, you realize."

"I have all day." Travis crossed his arms over his chest.

Carnell shook his head. "Fine, then. About three times a week--at night, in bed. Two women and four men. Three weeks. Satisfied?"

"Were you committed to any of them?"

"Was I..." He chuckled. "You know, that was to be _my_ next question. My answer is no. What is yours?"

"I don't fuck people I'm not committed to," Travis said flatly.

Carnell tilted his head. "Then you planned to be committed to Garrison?"

Travis cast his eyes down. "That was different."

"Because he's a man?"

"Because--" Travis stopped himself, realizing that he'd shouted. He lowered his voice. "Because it wouldn't matter if I were or not. What would I do? Take him home to meet my family?"

"Because he's a man," Carnell repeated. "You are committed to women you've been with as a matter of course, but you couldn't be like that with a man."

Travis grit his teeth. He wasn't sure why, exactly, he was so angry, but his heart was pulsing loud in his ears and he wanted nothing more than to punch Carnell in the face. Break his nose. Ruin his pretty face.

"You're not angry with me," Carnell said smoothly.

For a moment, Travis's anger retracted at being caught, then revived itself. "You don't know me as well as you think you do."

"Probably not." Carnell held Travis's gaze, though Travis could see the fear seeping back into his eyes. "But it would be easier if you were angry at me. For both of us. You could simply hit me or what have you, and your anger would be gone."

"We should try it, just in case."

Carnell instinctually jerked back, as if flinching from a slap though they were a few feet apart. "You-- You're angry, because what I'm saying is true." He spoke quickly, to diffuse Travis before he made good on his threat. "You want to have someone to come home to, always there. You want a family. You want all those things you're supposed to want, except you want it with a man. And it isn't _I_ who says you can't."

"Who is it you think I'm angry at, then?" Travis's gut twisted itself around as he spoke. "Everyone? Everything?"

"Something like that." Carnell leaned forward, his eyes bright. "You believe in Space Fleet. You believe in the Federation. You believe in your family. You believe that all of them are good and just. And yet." Suddenly, Carnell cast his gaze down, and his cheeks paled. He muttered something under his breath and stood. "That's enough for today."

Travis was on his feet and grabbing Carnell's arm in one movement. He jerked him around to face him. "No."

"Let go of me," Carnell breathed, pulling away.

" _And yet_...?" Travis held Carnell's arm fast. He felt as if he could break the bone if he held it tighter.

Carnell's eyes narrowed. Travis thought for a moment that he saw tears, but when Carnell spoke, his voice was fierce. More fierce than he'd ever heard it. "Yet you do everything that is expected of you, and the one thing you want that doesn't quite fit in? They take it from you. They don't even let you _want_ it without fear. And if you do get even a _piece_ , you hate yourself. Just for being. Just for existing."

Carnell's voice roared in the silence, though he'd barely spoken over a rasp. Then, the room was silent again but for the electric drone of the lights. Travis could see Carnell's jugular pulsing under his skin.

Footsteps in the corridor, voices just outside the door--both of them jerked away from each other at the sound. They stood facing each other, still out of breath, until the sound faded away.

"We... should take a day off," Carnell said, weakly attempting to regain a professional tone. "A real day off. Er, think over--"

"Where do you stay?" Travis asked sharply.

"How do you mean?"

Travis balled his fists and stretched his fingers out again. "When you're not working, where do you stay?"

Carnell understood. Carnell had understood the first time, and they both knew it. "That can't happen, Travis."

A smirk crossed Travis's lips, and he moved closer to Carnell again. "You called me Travis."

"I mean it." Carnell didn't try to evade him. "Not just because it's... You're my patient. It's immoral. It's beyond immoral. It's abuse. I c--"

Travis covered his mouth with a kiss. Only sucking on his bottom lip at first, then pushing the tip of his tongue out to slide along the edge of Carnell's teeth, then into his mouth. Carnell snaked a hand around Travis's neck and curled his fingernails into the nape of it, as if to give the impression of resistance without resisting. When Travis drew out of the kiss, Carnell's face was flushed and his eyes dark.

"I couldn't," Carnell murmured.

"You could."

Carnell smiled mirthlessly. "I have a distaste for using the word _shouldn't_. Don't force me to."

"You prefer couldn't?" Travis asked, his voice low.

"I'm afraid I do. Couldn't is, at least, not a moral question."

Travis narrowed his eyes. "You're sure about that?"

"I find, Travis, that when I am around you, I am not certain of nearly as much as I usually am."

"Think of it this way." Travis leaned close, so that their lips were almost touching. "If I'm never with a man, I'll always wonder. That would get me caught eventually."

The corners of Carnell's lips twitched down slightly. "That's not playing fair."

"I'm not playing."

"Manipulation is always a game. You're playing on my guilt. On my sympathy for your situation. You saw I'd let my guard down, and you knew just where to attack."

"You wanted me from the first day," Travis said.

Carnell breathed a laugh. Travis could feel his breath hot on his lips. "That is beside the point."

Travis shrugged. "The end result is the same, regardless of why. You'll take me home today, and I'll stay until tomorrow. I've a feeling you already know how to sneak a lover into your room without it showing on any monitors."

"Of course." Carnell pressed a soft kiss against Travis's lips, just barely letting his tongue graze Travis's skin before he pushed back, away from Travis. "I give in. But you are taking a risk. I am not at fault if you are caught."

Travis smiled broadly. "I don't mind taking the risk."

__________________

At midday, Carnell spoke again for the first time since Travis had been in his room. "I should not have made this so easy for you."

Travis didn't answer. He had rested his head on Carnell's shoulder and was languidly curling his chest hair around the tips of his fingers. He'd expected a bigger room than his own, but it was built almost exactly the same. The bed was softer, though. Or maybe he'd imagined that.

"Arik Travis..." Carnell began.

"You realize I don't know your first name."

Carnell chuckled deep in his chest, and Travis heard it resound. "I think I've figured out how to keep you safe."

"Is that what you were thinking on?" Travis asked, almost teasing.

"I do my best thinking post-orgasm." He eased himself onto his side, facing Travis. "I don't know that I want to _tell_ you."

Travis arched an eyebrow.

"I will, of course. Come here." Carnell guided Travis's leg over his own and pulled him close so that their bodies pressed flush together. Travis gasped and then sighed. The way their bodies fit together seemed almost too perfect. He'd expected it to feel wrong somehow.

"Listen to me, Travis," Carnell whispered, hot and wet into his ear, as he began to grind their hips together. "It's all about control. Which I am clearly an utter failure at, so do as I say, not as I do."

Travis kissed Carnell's neck then pressed his face into the crook under Carnell's jaw. "I'd assumed that much."

"Yes, well... Control. Routine. Like your morning jogs. You won't always be able to do that when you're out. In space. You'll need to find something you can maintain. Something physical." His voice was coming in pants now as his cock swelled against Travis's hip.

"I can bring workout equipment with me wherever there isn't a gym."

"Right." Carnell pulled back just enough to reach down between them and circle his hands around both their cocks. Just enough to hold them so they could rub against each other with each thrust. "And masturbate daily. Possibly twice a day. Don't hold out; take time to really pleasure yourself."

Travis nodded, unable to speak anymore. He could feel Carnell's sweat beginning to slick his skin, and he slid his leg up slightly, just to feel more of it. He'd never known someone's sweat could smell good.

"You'll need actual sex. Once a month at least, I'd say. Pay for it if you have to--always with women, mind. Space Fleet tracks that. Don't find prostitution perverse, so you should be fine unless that changes. But all of that is just release, so you won't be tempted for physical reasons. The mind, as always, is the main issue." He released their cocks and looked Travis in the eye. "Put your hand where mine was."

Wetting his lips eagerly, Travis did as Carnell told him.

"Now. I want you to bring me to orgasm using your hand with your penis in it as well. But I want you not to come."

Travis shifted away slightly and blinked at him, too dizzy with arousal to be sure he'd heard correctly. "I... You want me not to..."

"Do you remember when you were afraid of blood? You desensitized yourself to it. I want you to desensitize yourself to this attraction."

It shouldn't have made sense, but Travis understood. It was inhuman, and insane, and perhaps impossible. But it made sense.

Carnell kissed Travis's lips like he had before, softer than any girl had ever kissed him. "It's that, or your career is over, Arik. For the best, anyway. If we're not talking of running off together and living as fugitives in the first blush of love, when will we?"

The word sounded strange in his ears. Love. He remembered one of the things Carnell had said on the second day, the first day they'd really talked for any length of time. That his parents were looking forward to Travis bringing home a nice girl. A girl to come home to. Not a girl he loved, of course. Love had nothing to do with any of this.

"Yes," Travis whispered, his eyes fixed on Carnell's forehead, not his eyes. "You're right."

"I know. It's quite a burden, being right."

Travis closed his eyes and thought of the rows of cattle, stunned and hanging from their feet as their throats were slit. He moved his hand on himself and Carnell, and he thought of the cattle's blood splattering his forearms, and their big, black eyes staring as they mindlessly accepted their fate.

__________________

Travis left in the morning, using the route Carnell had mapped for him. He jogged back to his barracks, showered and jerked off though he didn't particularly feel like it, dried and dressed, then settled in with his manual to study until it was time for their session.

The black walls and imposing desk didn't intimidate him this time, as he sat in his chair. They seemed right. As it should be.

Carnell didn't speak right away. He was looking through some files. Probably reading up on another patient. Which was right. Eventually, he looked up, his eyes blue and clinical like the walls of the hospital.

"You're a bit late, Travis."

"Sorry."

Drawing a deep breath, Carnell leaned back in his chair. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Fine," Travis answered flatly.

Carnell didn't smile. He'd expected Carnell to smile.

"I completed my morning routine, as you suggested."

"Good." Carnell paused, seeming to look through Travis to the chair back behind him. "I... sent in my report--your report-- to central command early. I thought we shouldn't waste two more days."

A faint emotion stirred in Travis, but he controlled it. "Good."

Carnell nodded, but Travis could see something building up in him. It didn't surprise him when Carnell got to his feet and began to speak again. "If you're curious about what I think-- Though, why would you be curious? It doesn't matter now. Your report is sent in. It's being processed currently." Carnell stopped at the small window and slid the dimmer up so it brightened. It wasn't a real window. The summery green and blue image on it was only a reproduction. "But what I think, Travis, is that you are completely unfit for Space Fleet, in every sense."

 _That_ did surprise Travis, and he gripped the armrests of his chair. "What did you say?"

"Oh, there's no point in threatening me now." Carnell crossed his arms, and Travis could see his face in profile, squinting in the false sunlight. "The truth of it is, within a few years, you'll likely be completely mad. Your natural disposition, your routines, your ability to condition yourself... Mixed with the drugs they feed Space Fleet soldiers and officers. You'll be ruthless. Heartless. Not controlled, but incapable."

Rage pushed Travis to his feet, and his chair slammed backwards onto the floor behind him. He wanted to throw Carnell into a wall. Press his forearm against Carnell's throat until he saw the unnatural light drain from his eyes.

But he didn't move. He clenched his muscles so tight that he felt as if he were made of steel. "You said. You were trying to help save my career."

Carnell laughed. "None of this is in the report."

Travis's rage was suddenly turned to ice.

"I didn't even have to lie. The truth is, you're exactly what they want. You'll do anything for the Federation. Even destroy yourself for them. In fact, you've already started. You started long before I met you. Otherwise, I might've..."

Carnell didn't finish the sentence. Travis didn't want him to. "Are you finished with me, then?" Travis asked.

"Yes," he answered, but he flinched at the word. Only slightly, but Travis had noticed.

For a moment, Travis didn't want to leave him that way. But the moment quickly passed.

__________________

Space Commander Travis was hardly surprised to find Psychostrategist Carnell in the criminal's observation chamber. He'd almost expected it. How could Travis be here, and not find Carnell?

"I didn't know you'd bring your friends," Carnell said, his eyebrows raised at the mutoids flanking Travis.

"Perhaps you are not as good at your job as I've heard, then."

Carnell smiled. "I specialize in the lower grades, not alphas." He stood and moved toward the observation screen. "A friend of mine whom I met while training here in Sydney proposed I aid in this interrogation. This Blake fellow certainly is making people _nervous_ if they'd bring someone like me in to advise on someone who knew him years ago."

"Sometimes," Travis spoke slowly, “the people you knew years ago know you best."

"Sometimes." Carnell didn't look at him, but Travis could hear the tone shift in his voice. "I doubt this man knows very much, though. Otherwise, he would have settled himself down by now. Assured himself that he had enough information to trade for his life. But look at him. He's been pacing for hours. Bit of a bore, really."

Travis stiffly moved toward the observation screen alongside Carnell, holding out a hand to still his mutoids by the door. "Perhaps he knows that a friend of Blake is unlikely to come out with his life regardless of what he knows."

"He doesn't yet know _you're_ the one who will interrogate him."

Travis glanced at Carnell, then back to the screen. "You'll interrogate him, then. He may have guessed I was coming. If he sees a kinder face, he may let his guard down. Renew his hopes of survival."

"That would be the best course of action, I think. Of course, you'll have to brief me first."

"Of course."

Carnell squinted through the screen, his hands clasped behind his back. "Here, of all places."

"It is like any other facility. I hardly see the significance."

"Of course." Carnell chuckled, and nodded toward the plate over Travis's left eye. "Your new look suits you better."

"We should get started," Travis stated.

"But you wouldn't find this place unsettling now, would you?" Carnell turned toward him and casually ran his fingertips down the smooth line of Travis's leather breastplate, as black as the walls and unadorned aside from the Federation insignia. "You're always here."

Travis grimaced at him. "Your reputation for seducing young cadets precedes you, Carnell. Try it on them, not me."

Carnell laughed loudly enough that the sound danced around the small observation chamber. "My apologies, Space Commander. I didn't mean to insult you." He bowed slightly and moved away. "We should get to work, as you said."

Travis briefed Carnell quickly on the situation, and Carnell merely listened, maintaining a professional distance. He already knew enough about the Blake situation that Travis needed only to fill in the details relevant to this particular interrogation. Carnell was good enough at his job that he would be able to play it by ear if required. He smiled and nodded when Travis was finished--a smile that didn't quite crease the lines around his eyes--and quietly said, "I'll see what I can do."

Once Carnell was in the room with the criminal, Travis watched him through the screen.

The old memories teased the corners of his mind, too ephemeral for him to catch hold of and eliminate. Those first hours in Carnell's room. The way it smelled of his cologne, and then of his sweat. The heat they created that filled it until it was almost unbearable. The softness of his sheets and his lips and his fingers. His gentle relentlessness.

Travis watched Carnell work, staring at the screen as impassively as the mutoids next to him.

Those memories had meant nothing at the time, and they meant even less now. The chill they sent down his spine was disgust. Nothing more.

It could never have been anything more.


End file.
